I'm back and I'm Serious! Marriage, Healing, and Spiritual Kink

Hi Everyone!

It's been a long time.  About two years, in fact.

A LOT has happened.  Juggling all my relationships, parenting, and school took a toll on my marriage and in the fall of 2013, it all came to a screeching halt.  We closed our marriage, went to counseling, and I/we have done a lot of important work since then on ourselves and each other.  We've been completely monogamous since that time, and are just now beginning to think and talk about what opening our relationship might look like.  We're not there yet, as we still have some things to sort out with each other about what we'd need, and what guidelines we'll put in place.  To be completely honest, I did not do a good job with boundaries when we did poly last time, and I wasn't entirely honest about the feelings that developed for another partner, and these small lies and violations ended up being disastrous.  So we are very cautious this time around, and want to make sure we are solid on our relationship and communication skills should we choose to practice an open marriage again.

 In the last two years I've further explored Sacred Sex through tantra, deepened my spirituality and goddess practice, and moved toward the completion of my Women's Studies degree.  I am doing a great deal of personal and professional work on healing my (and our culture's) wounds around sexuality.  I am learning about different trauma healing modalities and running a local women's group to celebrate feminine divine power and the cycles of the moon.  I am on the cusp of my graduation, and uncertain of what is next for me, professionally.  For a while, my husband and I have been uncertain of what is next for us too.  We haven't given up on ourselves or each other though, and I am proud of all of our growth.

Today was actually pretty exciting for me, because after a deeply emotional yesterday of EMDR and tears and healing and feeling lost, today I got some pretty big insights on a possible next step for my marriage--one that I hope will further deepen our spiritual and sexual connection and just make us better people.

I've been re-visiting the concepts of kink, spiritual BDSM and m/s relationships lately.  I can see that the majority of my husband's fantasies seem to be around service, being dominated, and being below me.  I have turned away from BDSM in the last two years, largely because it was such a big part of my life leading up to the near collapse of self/marriage in 2013, and also due to my feminist concerns.  I want equality and gender fluidity, and I’m not sure I’m entirely comfortable with the idea of being an unquestioned Mistress.  

In addition, I have often found the role of Dominant to be exhausting, with lots of energy and prep going into a scene and most of the pleasure and release going to my sub rather than me.  Perhaps because I am still relatively new at domming, the majority of my focus goes to technique and execution, making it hard for me to focus on my own pleasure. 

However, something very spiritual occurs when we assume Mistress and slave roles during a sex scene.  He becomes subservient and worshipful (with some playful resistance—largely, I suspect, to make me spank him harder--) and something about assuming these roles just feels right.  He has expressed the sentiment that serving and being beneath me feels “right” to him, and that it is “the way it should be.”  He also expresses desire for my guidance and discipline and I see him relax and melt into my hands, my touch, and my demands.  He stands taller, moans louder, and comes alive as my slave.  I admit, being treated as a goddess, given divine command and responsibility also feels natural to me.  I am training as a priestess, am stepping into roles of spiritual leadership personally and professionally, and to be treated sexually as such stirs something deep within me. I know that I have served as temple priestess, wandering mystic, shaman, and sacred whore in other lifetimes and these rituals and traditions run deep in my blood.  I have long known that sex, power, and ritual can combine to create powerful healing, transformation and growth, and long to strive towards the union of sex and spirit, body and soul.

In addition, our relationship has gone through quite a few trials in the last few years.  We are both seeking to deepen our connection, but for some time, it has felt we wanted different things.  As I studied feminist theory, tantric union and sacred sex, and began in depth-work on my past emotional and sexual trauma, I moved away from kink.  I longed more for spiritual and emotional connection, rather than sex I felt I had to direct, or that seemed to involve any kind of violence.  I was raw and healing.  We attended a tantra workshop together, and the energy was sweet and healing, but we both left wanting more—more intensity, more wildness, more connection.

And all the while, he was still desiring domination and intense sexual experiences, and we were not having them together—at least not often.  Our relationship was entering a stage of a lot of processing—processing my past trauma and wounds that arose during our relationship.  We were engrossed in work, parenting, and big life questions (should we move?  Change jobs?  Have a baby?  What next for us and our relationship?)  I kept digging deeper, seeking more connection, and he at times had a tendency to pull away, becoming triggered or emotionally exhausted.  Yet when we would connect sexually, and when I would occasionally climb on top of him and order him to fuck me and refuse to allow him to cum, we felt that deep energy we’d both been longing for within our relationship.

Over the last 5 years we’ve been together—we toyed with a lot.  Occasionally I lock him up in chastity and torture him, or make him serve me for a day.  We’ve gone to munches together, and I’ve trained formally as a domme. We’ve both certainly done our share of research and exploration together and separately, but it’s never felt the time to go deeper.  We never identified as lifetime m/s partners.  In fact, when we started dating, we both identified as switches, and we still like to switch roles sometimes, as well as explore gender fluidity together.

But today, it all coalesced.  Practically in an instant, what felt confused and ill-matched suddenly aligned.  For months, I’d been frustrated that he wasn’t interested in exploring my spiritual practices with me of yoga, meditation, and mantra, or overt goddess worship.  He’d felt frustrated that I suddenly stopped being kinky, when he fantasized about little else.  And then, in the midst of reading Raven Kaldera's book, “Sacred Power, Holy Surrender,” it all made sense.  We weren’t ill matched!  And we weren’t seeking different things.  In fact, we were seeking something quite similar, just in different places and in different ways.  What if we could use BDSM as the intersection of our spirituality and our desires?  What if, by worshipping me as a goddess, he could also come into contact with the goddesses I serve?  A deep commitment to each other through service, discipline, mindfulness and honor in the bedroom and beyond—every day and in every moment—is certainly a shared spiritual practice.  Furthermore, making sex a sacred ritual that we share is a profound way to combine his deep desire for sexual service with my desire to lead us both to a deeper spiritual connection between us, the earth, and the divine.

I realize that it is a big transition to move from a marriage where we occasionally practice BDSM to a relationship where spiritual kink is a way of life.  I know we will have to go slowly.  But I am excited to practice the union between spirit and sex in my marriage and my daily life—not just when I happen to don sexy lingerie or wear the mantle of a priestess.  I am always a goddess, and he is meant to serve that divinity.

I can’t wait to talk to him about my ideas when he gets home from work!  I keep visioning the union between Shiva and Shakti in the form of the warrior goddess and transformatrix Kali.  They each represent divinity in the form of the masculine and the feminine, yet each forces the other to become better and to grow.  Shiva lays himself down beneath the feet of Kali to stop her murderous rage, Kali’s passion draws Shiva down from his meditation on the mountaintop in search of sacred union.  We serve each other, balance each other, and represent the divine energies of the Universe.  And, I do so adore seeing him on his knees, begging for my cock.  I shall certainly give that to him, but little else.  I’m just delighted at these ideas.  I hope he is too!

I will keep you updated on his response!  Though, if he says no, I will be sad and most likely need a few days of processing before I can write about it! <3 I've missed you all!

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I'm currently reading:

"Sacred Power, Holy Surrender: Living a Spiritual Power Dynamic" by Raven Kaldera

"Sacred Kink: The Eightfold Paths of BDSM and Beyond" by Lee Harrington

"Awakening Shakti: The Transformative Power of the Goddesses of Yoga" by Sally Kempton 

(this book is great for the Hindu Goddesses that are a manifestation of Shakti (which includes Kali, Lakshmi, Saraswati and Parvati))

A Penis Under the Negligee

There is a feminine strength that feels like a womb with a penis in it.

(Descent to the Goddess, page 42)


 

Women are constantly being penetrated--hung upon the peg of the unavoidable physical realities of life, death, blood, sex, pain, and grief. Dildoes, phalluses, crosses, trees, earth and the Erishkigal's peg in the underworld,* all remind us of the primal relationship between emptiness and fullness, life and death, male and female, yin and yang. How am I to view these images and the woman's role in the sexual act--her penetration and her sentence to hang upon her own desire, helpless and dying?

It is her dark truth, as the bearer of life and death, to have her cunt filled with cock, just as her womb is empty and yearning. In fact, it is this fertile emptiness which calls to out to be filled, the fullness of her cunt eventually leading to the fullness of her belly.

 

Her body exemplifies the cycles of longing and satisfaction, her lust and intimacy waxing with the fullness of the moon and turning inward as it darkens in the deep sky. She sheds blood and layers of self, ever renewing herself, body ever ready for the growth of new life. At times, she is full of man and moon and child, at others she is barren and empty, but ever changing, dynamically moving from emptiness to fullness, desire to satiety.

 

She is eternally bound to (nailed and penetrated by) the physical rhythms and mysteries of life. This is her shame, her curse, and her power. Her power can (and has been, ever since the Goddess has been relegated to the underworld) be used against her--her cunt raped and violated, her incredible capacity for pleasure and joy thrown carelessly aside--and yet she survives to bring forth new life from the hot semen of hatred and violence. Even the man that cruelly entered her uninvited was born of a mother, and the child of this pain shall too know the blessing of a womb and a breast. Life surges on, despite the atrocities. There is a darkness to the joy. There is death in the bringing of life.

Their sacred sexuality buried between their legs, women feel an innate and natural (biological, even) longing to be filled. This longing is often projected outward onto a lover, or manifests itself in the need for approval and fulfillment from others, particularly men. Who better to fill the emptiness than a man with a cock? Fill me up, desire me, put your cock inside me, put your cum in my pussy!

If it were so simple, we'd all be happy with little more than a quick fuck. While this can satiate immediate sexual need, there are deeper desires for love and intimacy that are deeply enmeshed in the sexual act, infused as it is with the spiritual and emotional longing of the inner self. Sex alone cannot satisfy the depth of a woman's longing, nor should it. Her desire points her deeper, within herself, where she must play out themes wild and deep, with herself alone.

As Ms. Brinton Perera (of The Way of the Goddess) writes

Erishkigal's stake fills the all receptive emptiness of the feminine with the feminine yang strength. It fills the eternally empty womb mouth and gives a woman her own wholeness, so that the woman is not merely dependent upon man or child, but can be unto herself as a full and separate individual. She can stand by her own No and Yes, her own solid stake. Erishkigal's pole impregnates a woman with this new and holy attitude to life (page 40).

Ah, yes, the phallus of the Goddess. Such reflections make me think of the clitoris, the female source of deepest pleasure, erect and full, reminding us that female pleasure does not inherently depend on penetration, but upon her own arousal. Indeed, we have a penis all our own and do not need a man's for fulfillment. While this may at first seem offensive, let me assure you it is not. What is offensive is forcing another to be responsible for our own pleasure and self knowledge. It is far more pleasurable to want penetrative intercourse in order to give and receive pleasure from a place of fullness and self confidence than it is to fuck from a place of need and ignorance.

 

So it is that we woman can fill ourselves, using fingers and hands to slide inside our cunts and caress the swollen head of the clitoris. We can follow our desire to its ultimate end: crucifixion upon the cross of our own dark selves, and be reborn deeper and fuller, having impregnated ourselves with the deep inner wisdom of the Goddess. And whoever we choose to fuck will be deeper and wiser because of it. We are no longer at the mercy of those who would penetrate us, impregnating us against our will, but have become pregnant with our own new life, and birth children entirely of our own making. Free unto ourselves, we need assurance and approval from no one. A filled cunt is a happy cunt and we are no longer empty.

The feminine phallus is the source of a woman's power and assertiveness, representative of a woman's ability to satisfy herself, the embodiment of the yin-yang duality. Rather than submit to the sadistic paternal animus, we must claim our own equally sadistic, assertive cunt powers.

We must say to ourselves:

MY CUNT IS SATISFIED.

I am in charge of my own sexual pleasure.

I am filled with new life that I have chosen and placed inside myself.

I am pregnant with power and wisdom--don't expect me to be a size two!

I am called by the Goddess.

I am DANGEROUS.

I am the Goddess.

I believe in magic.

I've got balls--watch out!

And...never fear, my penis is not afraid of yours!

There is a penis under the negligee, as the feminine is filled with sexual power from within. The feminine phallus exemplifies the woman who has taken the masculine into herself and embraced her assertive, kick-ass Goddess nature.


Inanna

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*When the Sumerian goddess, Inanna, descends to the underworld to confront her shadow sister, Erishkigal, she is hung on a meat hook and left there to die. This penetration and pegging of her body symbolizes the darker aspects of female sexuality, but here, she is not penetrated by the male phallus, but a darker, feminine one. And it is this penetration and ultimate death that causes the barren Erishkigal (the underworld aspect of Inanna herself) to conceive and give birth.

Here, the woman initiates and completes the sexual cycle of desire, vulnerability, penetration, death (perhaps orgasm), conception and birth/rebirth. Here, the point is that women have the ability to fill themselves independent of the male phallus. Women can meet their own spiritual needs and grow with new life all their own.

Until a woman has made this otherworldly journey, sexual acts of penetration will continue to enthrall and violate her. She will feel a deep and inexplicable need for penetration and an incompleteness upon being filled. She is deeply unsatisfied because she has yet to address her deeper feminine calling to be both her own desire and fulfillment.

I am not saying that such a woman who has learned to please herself will no longer desire intercourse with men. Her sexuality will certainly be changed, for who can enter the underworld and return without gravity and shadow? She will simply no longer be bound to the male phallus as her only salvation, the echo of deeper and darker pleasure. She will be freed to pursue her own pleasure and that of her lover without fear of failure or disappointment. She cannot be dismayed, for she has already known, and will continue to know, great pleasure at her own hands.

Happiness! Excitement! Short Skirts!

Hi everyone!

My life has gotten so full and exciting that it has been a challenge to stay on top of the blogging!  But never you worry I am percolating on some exciting topics for you in the days to come--femdom marriage ceremonies, burlesque sexiness, kinky photo shoots and more.

I am really stepping into my dominance, thanks to my husband and my wonderful submissives, along with a few long distance admirers.  When I began this journey I very much wanted to believe that I could be beautiful, powerful, and in control--no matter my size, fears, and insecurities.  But when I began this journey, I was still very shy, tentative, and self conscious.  And today, right now at this very moment I am happy, confident, proud, excited, and very much in love with the life I am living and the people in it. And today, I am wearing a short skirt out of the house because I look hot and I feel like it!  How fun to tease all those horny and helpless boys at the grocery store! Haha!

Opening up my marriage has been one of the hardest things I've done in a long time and it requires a lot of work and self honesty, but having the freedom to explore my kinks, passions, and sexuality is truly a gift.  And I love my husband all the more for his willingness (and work) to love me as the woman I am--a woman with an insanely high libido, a kinky, dirty mind, a love of connection, and a lot of curiosity about human sexuality.  Without my beautiful and loving husband, I don't know where I'd be.  With his support, I'm in graduate school and working towards my sex educator certification (by the way, when anyone asks what I do, or what I'm studying, I reply perkily with a great big grin--I'm studying sex, isn't that awesome?), practicing and training as a dominatrix, and dancing with a local burlesque group.  For nine months of the year, I'm studying furiously, writing papers and teaching classes, and it has been a huge blessing to spend the summer getting my hands dirty as it were (if you don't know what I mean, read the previous post), and gaining the experience I need to re-enter my studies with new questions to explore.

And the biggest surprise of the summer--loving my body, just as it is!  I've never had the perfect body, and certainly becoming a mother brought with it changes, some expected and some unexpected.  The great thing about being a female dominant is that when you have a good and true slave, they adore and worship you no matter what.  It's incredibly empowering.  So even though my thighs are not perfect, my belly has stretch marks and I have a tummy that will probably never go away, it is ALL a part of who I am and my submissives worship me in my entirety.  As a dominant, it isn't about the submissives wants and needs.  If I want to dress sexy and show off my body, so be it.  And if not, that's fine too.  I can grab one of my sluts by the hair or the collar and shove his face into my cunt if I so please and there's not a damn thing he can do about it.  And you know what else I've learned?  Confidence and comfort in your own skin is sexy as fuck.  A gorgeous and perfect woman with no confidence, no personality and no fire inside of her is not hot.  A size 10 woman with stretch marks and thigh dimples who loves who she is, knows what she wants and makes it happen--now that gets a cock hard!  So, dear readers, get out there and do what you love inside of the bedroom and out, because that is what will make you feel strong and sexy--no matter your external packaging.

And on that note, here's something hot I wrote about nakedness, vulnerability and stretch marks just a few months after I gave birth.  I think I've come a long way.  Enjoy!

I'm driving myself towards loves and lusts and lives of passionate intensity and yet stopping short as I raise my hand to knock on the door. Heart pounding in my chest, I stand frozen, looking through opaque windows, unable to predict what waits within.

I am not afraid of what I might find within, but how my lover will find me. Rejection is always painful, but to be seen and potentially refused by my living dream threatens every bit of my tenderly woven being. Not wanting to leave, and afraid to enter, I am caught in my own liminal purgatory. Standing there, sweating, wanting to meet the object of my long tended desires, desperate for connection and overexcited at the thought of imagined pleasures, wetness spreads between my thighs and seeps into my jeans. I smell of fear and desire, and I blush hot, knowing that my desire and quivering frame will betray me at first glance.

I walk away, rushing down the sidewalk, cool wind rushing around and through me. I near the safety of my waiting car, and stop again, feet frozen to the pavement. Gathering every last bit of courage, I peel my shoes up from the rubber ground, sticking in the heat, and force my feet back to you. Waging an internal war, both sides losing, each step is a profound effort.

Ascending the stairs a second time, I stand upon the doormat and take a deep breath. Unwilling to wonder for the rest of my life, living but a shadow of desire, I press the little yellow button, hearing bells chime within. Hand holds hot hand, thighs tightly pressed together, nipples insinuate and breasts heave. I'm dying for you to answer the door, and desperately hoping you won't. As I turn to leave, you open the door wide.

You take one look at me, ragged and disheveled with desire, clothes damp and limp, and grab my slick hand, pulling me in. I stumble across the threshold and stare open mouthed as the door swings shut, sealing us inside. Unable to escape, eyes turn to gaze shyly on you, knowing you're unashamedly running your eyes over my dripping form. You ogle me, knowing that I want you to look, want you to see me.

Without a word, still rooted to the floor, I pull my shirt up over my head, dropping it onto the floor, revealing heavy swollen breasts cupped tightly in a black bra. Barely containing me as it is, I reach around and unhook the bra that digs into my tender flesh, leaving red marks on shoulders and back. My bra joins my shirt on the floor, and huge breasts fall free. I want you to see the way they lay on my stomach, nipples dark and eager, belying my shyness.

I let you gaze upon me, showing you my beautiful, imperfect body. I run my hands along my belly, tracing the paths of dark stretch marks, a map left of former fullness. My belly still slightly swollen and newly empty, not entirely realizing that a child has been born. Unbuttoning the top button of my jeans and fumbling with the zipper, I wiggle out of my jeans, sliding them down to my ankles. Bending over, I let you drink in the way my breasts fall forward and the curves of my ass beg for you to grab them. But you don't.

Stepping out of my jeans and leaving them in a crumpled pile upon the floor, I stand up and look back at you, eyes meeting for the first time. Heart beating frantically as I stand there, letting you see all of my vulnerability, my new body, neither mother nor girl. Breasts milky and full, both sexual and practical, I am a complicated mess of a woman.

Curves in new places, marks tattooed on flesh, muscles firm and strong from carrying a baby nine months inside and four months outside. You don't need to do anything. Just watch me.

Hands caress exposed flesh, turning that you can see me from every angle, letting you take in every dimple and fold of supple flesh. Standing before you, my nakedness is barely concealed by a pair of wet, thin panties. I gently stroke the insides of my thighs, reaching between my legs to rub the swollen wet mound within.

Sliding hands down hips and inside fabric, I touch my hot cunt while you watch. Breasts bounce and legs sway as I rub myself harder, excited beneath your curious gaze. In an instant my damp modesty lies abandoned upon the floor. I stand naked and quivering, a human goddess, Inanna* stripped and bound, waiting to be reborn.

I am no longer the woman I was. I am changed, and I am shedding my former skin for wiser, fuller flesh. I want you to witness my transformation, recording the ineffable events upon your heart. There I will grow and thrive, impervious to threats of unbelievers. This is the closest we will come to the divine.

In my vulnerability, stripped of pride and beauty, flesh unbound and skin transparent, I find ecstasy. Fingers finding exposed, erect clitoris, unashamedly taking my pleasure before you. Risks taken and pleasure sought, I press onward, no longer content with a life of mediocrity. Pulsing with life, I come to orgasm right there, knees weakening and mouth uttering screams wild and dark.

Still rubbing my clitoris, not daring to let go, I cum again and again, not caring if you like what you see, forgetting that I am made of mere flesh and blood. Dreams mingle with reality, each moment made of orgasm. We could share a cup of coffee or sit and read the newspaper, and still I'd be unfolding in ecstasy. With each spasm of my tight cunt, I approach my deepest self, and imbued with pleasure, continue upon my crooked path to the Goddess.

It's time for me to pull out my mirror again and take a look at the new cunt resting between my legs. I'm ready to open my knees and let you see what lies within. I'll show you my scars if you're willing to look. I'll get off on your perusal, letting your glance drive me towards divine ecstasy.

So read my words and learn my heart, for I live and breathe in these pages. Here I lie spread open and exposed, an ever changing woman, seeking pleasure in all its forms. I am not a goddess, but merely a woman striving ever towards union with the gyrating world.

*Inanna was the ancient Sumerian goddess of sexual love, fertility, and war. Legend has it that Inanna undertakes a journey to the underworld of spiritual and sexual initiation. In order to descend to the depths of her dark femininity, Inanna must remove each article of her clothing, one by one, until she is completely naked and vulnerable. Only then can she enter the underworld. She removes her crown, stripping herself of her divinity, her earrings and strands of beads around her neck. She unfastens her gold breastplate, engraved with the words "Come man, come," forsaking her sexual charms, abandoning her woven girdle, and finally her royal breechcloth.

Naked and mortal she descends to the realm of her infernal sister, Erishkigal, and there she is crucified by the wrath of the dark feminine. Her flesh is hung on a meat hook, and her corpse rots until her consort Dumuzi and his sister, the self-sacrificing feminine, each undertaking their own journeys to hell, to resurrect the crucified Goddess. Thus the journey to the inner, dark self of the underworld becomes a task of both the masculine and feminine. It is only when both male and female confront their sexual and personal darkness, that they are united with each other and the earth.

While we cannot control the journeys of our lovers, we can endeavor to bare our bodies and souls, knowing that until we do so there is no hope of true ecstasy.

Relationships, Emotions, and the Power of Kink

Okay, peeps.  What is up?  How is everyone's Thursday so far?  I hope that you are all well, grounded, present, and full of joy at the awesomeness of life.  As for me, I am doing some work!  For those of you who are just here for the sexy writing, I promise this post will be about connection and kink, but it won't be in the way you expect, and probably not until the end.  This post is about confronting painful aspects of ourselves in order to heal and move past them.

Here's a picture of the Goddess, cause trust me, we're going to need her.

A little more background on what brought me to this place.  Five years ago, I was trapped in a verbally abusive and sexually coercive relationship.  I became pregnant by being heavily pressured into unprotected sex, and was similarly pressured into keeping the child. I was young and far away from home, and caved to the voices of my abusive partner and father (if you get pregnant you MUST marry and DO THE RIGHT THING), which culminated in a  shot-gun wedding in the living room of our shitty little apartment when I was about 10 weeks pregnant.  I could barely get through the ceremony for morning sickness, and I was deeply aware that what I was doing was wrong, but I was too tired to fight. 

I became increasingly isolated, trapped, and dependent, and spun into a deep depression, which lingered for years even after I escaped the situation.  My then-husband was "poly" (he hit me with it on our first date, and I was all, "hey, cool, I'm open minded and that sounds neat.  Just not right now, kay?"), and I decided to take the poly plunge in the middle of my second trimester.  I felt trapped and wanted to feel as though I could still make connections with people/couples I liked, and whether I was honest with myself or not at the time, it was a way to escape the prison that had become my life.  And besides, I was pregnant, throwing up every 5 minutes, and miserable--I figured, hey, what could go wrong? HAHAHAHA.

But actually, being poly was awesome.  I loved it.  It was imperfect and messy at times, but I loved all the weirdoes we met a poly potlucks, the naked hot tub time, the long conversations late into the night about sex and relationships, the big, patchwork homes with lots of bedrooms and couches for kissing and cuddling.  I loved the openness, and the way that attraction, connection, and sex weren't taboo.  It was refreshing and exciting to be allowed to have a husband and be pregnant and still be allowed to be attracted to others and play with/or build relationships with others.  I fucking LOVED it.  I loved the opportunity to go on lunch and coffee dates and meet new people who were also practicing their own special version of this thing I was into.  It was really, really great.  So even though I entered into polyamory for what were completely and utterly the WRONG REASONS, I ended up being given a great gift. 

The other thing I both love/d and hate/d about poly was the way in which it forces you to deal with your shit.  Relationships in general do this, but when you are negotiating and discussing connections with others there is no escaping our wounds.  For example, there could be plenty of issues in a relationship (it's not a big deal, we all have them after all our years walking around on this earth, loving, taking risks, getting hurt--just like I have scars and scrapes on my knees from childhood), but it is often easy enough to ignore them by setting them aside and ignoring them.  It's easy to get complacent in relationships and ignore all the baggage that surrounds us.  We all do it--cause it is HARD to deal with our shit.  Who wants to do that?

But when you're poly, you're dealing with your own relationship and each of your lives, and then you're like, hey, I'm interested in this other person, how do you feel?  And at some point along the journey, one or both of you WILL get triggered.  It could be because of insecurities in your main relationship that need addressing--if one of you is feeling vulnerable/wounded/rejected/hurt, it's really going to be scary and pouring salt-on-the-wound stingy when the other partner seeks someone else out.  Even if it isn't at all about them trying to ditch you or replace you in any way, you're most likely going to FEEL all "they hate me, I'm a loser, they're going to abandon me," and all sorts of doom and gloom end of the world scenarios.  So what might be a simple conversation/request, might trigger a whole host of big scary emotions that have nothing to do with the new love/partner interest, but has everything to do with some unresolved fears and pain in the relationship or in the partner themselves.  Whew.  I know, exhausted already, right? BUT...Hard as it is, this shit needs to get addressed so that we can begin to heal our personal and relational wounds and journey on together. 

So, here we are--me, recovering from the wounds of an abusive relationship--where I learned to associate marriage with abuse, coercion, and entrapment--and a childhood where I was raised by a Borderline mother, and him, a man who lost his partner of 15 years to illness and who had to make the fucking excruciating decision pull the plug.  And only he knows what other deeper insecurities he might be carrying around from his past. 

I know this sounds scary and overwhelming and probably too much to deal with--BUT, we ALL are like this.  Whether or not we acknowledge our pain and our wounds doesn't change the fact that they are there.  They enter into everything we do, and into all of our relationships--even those we box up into the little box of "casual" or "just friends" or "sex only."  And I'm not saying that we have to spend the rest of our lives weeping and ululating over our personal mountains of shit.  But we DO have to recognize our issues, name them, feel them, and find healthy ways to release them so that we can move more deeply into relationships with ourselves and others.

In my case, these last six months, it's been about recognizing that, despite all the love and heart and courage and connectedness it took me to propose to my love and best friend, and to commit to him at the altar, that we're still just imperfect individuals with issues that need to be addressed.  I've also realized that due to my own broken experience of my parent's unhealthy marriage and divorce, and my own past experience with a past abusive marriage--no matter how fucking hard I tried to prevent it, marriage was a triggering event for me.  Even though I was all, "I love you and commit to you and to an open marriage where we respect each other's desires and independence"--some deep, dark part of me was screaming, "oh god no!  Don't lock me up!  Don't hurt and abuse me!"--not because I was doing the wrong thing by marrying a man I deeply love, but because I learned to associate marriage and commitment with abuse and confinement.  So, yeah, there's so work for me to do.  Super!

Additionally, talk of getting pregnant and having another child was also a triggering event for me.  Since my last pregnancy was the result of a rape, and the experience of being pregnant against my will was so traumatic, it was hard to get myself into a place where doing these things again felt okay.  Even though I love my partner and VERY FUCKING MUCH want to have another child with him, no matter how hard I tried, my shit just kept coming to the surface.  When I finally went off birth control, I flipped my shit and had a panic attack: "Oh God, oh God, I can't go back there!  Please don't make me go back to that dark place where I can't breathe and I think I'm going to die!  I've worked so hard to get here, with him, and happy and healthy and I can't---I won't go back!"  So even though I logically realize that there is way to conceive and experience pregnancy and motherhood in a much healthier, balanced, and supportive way, my emotional and wounded self is still screaming a different story.  So again, more work for me! 

And of course, the fun thing about being in relationship, is that as you're going through your shit--and in this case, saying, "yes, let's do it, let's have a baby" and then a month later having a crisis and saying, "No, I can't, I took Plan B, I'm sorry, we have to use condoms for a while until I sort this shit out, God I'm sorry"--your poor, sweet husband is basically being thrown back and forth against the wall, and, of course, he's going to take it all very personally.  So now, you have two painful things going on. 1) Your old shit coming back to say, hello, time to deal with me and 2) oh, and by the way, your shit is also going to activate your husband's shit, and by the way you just hurt him really badly.   Awesome, right?  But that's how it goes for all of us.  Most folks just usually don't try, or want to enumerate it the way I just did.  But that's how old wounds come back to tell us we're not done with them (or perhaps, they're not done with us?) and how, often, in the process, we can hurt others who can see our actions as rejecting them (when really, they're about the emergence of our own pain).

So, the point is that every relationship is requires deep, conscious awareness of past issues and how they come into play in present interaction, and in a certain sense, practicing polyamory is a funny way of guaranteeing that this happens on a very regular basis.  In a way, what I am saying is that if you don't want to dig deep and deal with your shit, you probably shouldn't be poly.  Yeah, there's lots of wonderful and fun things that come with being poly like multiple connections, sex, romance, flirting, etc., etc., but if you aren't willing to put in the extra work that is required to do all of those things in a healthy way, then stop.  Stop right now.  Furthermore, if you are thinking of dating or being with a poly partner, be aware that you too are going to have to be willing to engage (at times--not all the time.  There's plenty of time for play and sex and laughing too!) on this level to some extent.

Just as I wouldn't engage in sex with someone who felt coerced, or dominate my partner in the midst of a fight, or bring up deep and raw issues in the middle of  a play scene, so, too, I will not engage in play or relationships with others when there is obvious shit on the table in my relationship that needs to be dealt with.  That's not cool.  Cause all of a sudden, issues from my primary relationship are leaking out everywhere into my other connections, and things are tense and explosive at home.  That's no way to conduct healthy polyamory.  I'm not saying that we're going to withdraw from the world altogether while we do this work, not at all.  That's not healthy, either, and it's just another way of avoiding the issues that we recently triggered by the present possibility of other romantic connections.  We are poly.  We want to practice poly together, so simply abandoning it to run away and deal with stuff is foolhardy.  So, we keep moving forward.  We'll keep talking, exploring, and being present in the world together as we work to strengthen our relationship and ourselves.  And when the foundation feels a little firmer, and the ship stops rocking back and forth, perhaps we'll do some exploring with others.  I certainly hope so.

And finally, I did promise you a little bit of kink in relationship to these soul issues I've been discussing.  Last night, my partner said something that surprised me at first, but which, upon reflection made perfect sense.  As we were discussing all of the above he said,

"It's hard when you top me one night, and then in the morning, or the next day, bring up your interest in someone else." 

My response was,

"Hmmm, you know, I guess you're right.  I do have a tendency to bring those things up within 24-48 hours of me domming you.  I wonder why?  I think it's because when I top you I feel so intimate and close with you--so deeply connected and empowered and full of love--that I feel strong and safe enough to bring up my feelings toward others.  It's only when I feel that we are deeply connected and have a strong bond that I feel able to bring up the possibility of other relationships.  Does that make sense?  So, for me, the fact that I'm talking to you about a crush I have, is a sign that I'm feeling good in the relationship and safe and confident enough in us  to talk about someone else.  But...for you, it sounds like you're feeling, maybe, almost coerced...like I'm asking, or maybe even just telling you that I'm going to be with someone else, and we're still in that dominant space where you feel helpless." 

He said,

"Yes, it's some of that, but also, think about how you feel when you are in sub space.  How do you feel during the scene and maybe even for a day or so after [we do that kind of emotional/soul work]?"

"Hmm.  I feel vulnerable, raw, and ripped open.  Not in a bad way, just vulnerable, and for a time after, unable to cover myself back up with the things that I use to protect myself; exposed."

Him: "Exactly."

Me: "I see.  That makes sense.  I suppose I hadn't really thought about the after-effects of topping you beyond immediate aftercare.  I can see that there's more going on, and I have certainly experienced that myself.  This is really interesting.  Clearly we need to have a conversation around just this issue so we can see what's really going on here and how to navigate it."

So, what this reveals to me is something that I already, instinctually knew.  Kink is not just about swatting people with whips and chaining them up and cocks getting hard and cunts getting wet.  That's a part of it--a very fun and enjoyable part--but it isn't really why I do it.  I participate in kink because I believe it to be, and have experienced it to be a very powerful and soul-working experience.  It isn't always this way, and thank goodness, because as Lee Harrington says, we all need some deep-fried-oreo "junk food sex."  We can't always engage on the astral plane, and sometimes need to get off from rolling around in the muck.  But for me, topping another person is all about soul-connecting with them and pushing them past their own perceived limits. 

So often people underestimate themselves, devalue themselves, and feel inadequate, vulnerable, and insecure.  But when a sub, with my support, guidance, and love, pushes past boundaries of fear, pain, and emotion, that's fucking huge.  In that moment, they learn that they are more powerful than they ever realized and that carries over into everyday life.  Additionally, as a submissive, it is very possible, and I think, done right, can be very cathartic to experience humiliation, or to revert to being a child being disciplined by Daddy/Mommy/Teacher/Coach as a way to re-experience painful childhood moments and release them.  Being able to enter into a controlled and created space where you can fucking cry like a baby as Daddy spanks you for being a bad girl is not just about the way it gets your pussy wet.  Haven't you noticed that after a scene like that, despite feeling a bit raw and vulnerable, you feel free?  Less burdened by feelings of having to do what others tell you?  Less worried about pleasing others (or in other words, pleasing Daddy?) You endured Daddy's wrath and his attempts to shame and abuse you and came out on the other side.  And maybe you even got pleasure or an orgasm out of it, or felt love, and all those things are powerful talismans that transform old feelings of shame, hurt, and fear.

This is why I am attracted to kink.  I've often toyed around with being a therapist, and even thought about being a sex therapist.  But I don't want to be limited by the boundaries of traditional therapy.  I want to put on my stockings and corset and red lipstick and grab my crop and flogger and enter into the role of the Goddess to help others heal and transform and to bring them pleasure, at the most basic level.  I also want to be bent over and spanked until I cry, cause yes, I have pain and issues, and sometimes I just want to fucking cry like a baby.  So, go forth all of you, and try to pay attention to your emotions and reactions.  What's going on with you?  Is it really about the spilled cup of coffee, or the new person your partner likes or how attracted you are to the person you met at the bar (maybe, a little) or is it about something deeper and more powerful that is trying to get your attention?  Don't worry about having it all figured out.  Just take the first step. 

I even challenge you to bring awareness to your kink.  WHY do you like what you like?  What does it evoke for you?  What do you want and need, and why?  Just beginning to think about these things will make your play (work!) in the bedroom and playroom more powerful as you begin to see it for the soul tool that it can be. 

Have a great day everyone, and stay present, even when it hurts!

Many Blessings in Love,

Inanna